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Was the dog imagining that the squeaks were
screams of agony? They didn't seem comparable.
    He observed it for several minutes,
wondering what possible pleasure the dog could be getting out of
this, besides the opportunity to exercise its jaws. Why did people
like Alicia think that dogs were so great? Who cared about
unconditional love? Love should be given out on an "as deserved"
basis.
    When he decided that the dog had squeaked
the toy enough for one night, Charlie changed its bandages and
refilled its food bowl. The dog was healing nicely--in a few days,
it would probably be completely back to normal. Normal for a
clown-faced idiot dog, anyway.
    "I don't want you to run away and cost me my
reward," he informed the dog as he showed it the cheap black collar
he'd purchased, "so you're going to have to wear this, like it or
not."
    The dog most definitely
did not like it,
and it took a few minutes of struggle to get the collar over its
head and fastened properly. Charlie considered hitting the dog to
encourage it to keep still...but, no, there was no reason for that.
He'd win this little dispute without resorting to
violence.
    He got the collar on the dog, attached the
leash he'd also bought, and led it up the stairs. He let the dog
run around the living room for a minute while he put on his heavy
coat and gloves, and then took the dog outside for a traditional
walk.
    It finished its business almost immediately,
but Charlie was pretty sure that walks were about exercise as much
as defecation, so they began to walk along the sidewalk. Sometimes
the dog walked right alongside of him, sometimes it tugged on its
leash in a failed attempt to run ahead, sometimes it forced Charlie
to tug on its leash because it got distracted by fascinating
smells, and sometimes it ran in a circle and almost tripped him,
but overall Charlie thought it was a relatively successful
walk.
    After they'd gone about six or seven blocks,
they approached a driveway where a young blonde woman was taking
groceries out of her car. Her eyes lit up as she saw the dog.
    "Oh, look at you!" she said, placing a bag
of groceries on the ground and crouching down so she could pet the
dog. "What a sweetie!"
    The dog licked her face, clearly loving the
attention.
    "What's his name?" the woman asked Charlie.
She was absolutely beautiful. She looked as if she might have just
come from the salon as well as the grocery store.
    "He doesn't have one."
    "Doesn't have a name?" The woman scratched
both of the dog's ears. "How can a sweetie like you not have a
name? You don't like that at all, do you? I bet you don't!"
    "I mean, I don't know its name," said
Charlie.
    "Well, he's absolutely adorable," said the
woman, picking up her grocery bag and standing up. She grinned at
Charlie. "Both of you have a great evening, all right?"
    The woman turned and retrieved a second
grocery bag from her trunk. Charlie couldn't believe it. She was
just standing there, totally unguarded, not even looking at him. He
could shove her into the trunk, slam the lid, and have a gorgeous
woman in his basement this very evening.
    He wouldn't do it, of course. He'd broken
the schedule once, and had vowed to never do it again. And though
this idea sounded great as a flash of fantasy, it was far too
risky. She could scream, or somebody could see (for all he knew,
her husband was right inside), or she could be locked in the trunk
with the only set of keys.
    Still...he was amazed at how the dog had
instantly created a level of trust.
    He should have asked the woman if he could
help her carry her groceries inside, just as a test.
    "Maybe you could be useful," Charlie told
the dog as they resumed their walk.
    Yes, he was talking to an animal in public,
but the woman had done the same thing without feeling humiliated.
Clearly, you were allowed to talk to uncomprehending animals
without looking like a candidate for the local asylum.
    Perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to get rid
of it. Charlie might have a creepy